Anything for Love

“I would do anything for love .

I'll be there until the final act

I would do anything for love.

I'll take a vow and seal a pact”

- Lyrics by Jim Steinman, performed Meatloaf on Bat Out of Hell: II

This song has always touched me. I was humming it the other day (it came out of the blue, triggered perhaps by some memory of passion) and I realized that the sentiment cuts to the heart of romance. Anything for love. Against love, all other powers eventually fail. All other considerations take second place. Culture, family, history, even mortality – in romance any barrier can be overcome for the sake of love.

Then I began thinking about BDSM (as I often do...) and understood that the notion had special poignancy in the world of power exchange. A true submissive will do anything for love – anything to prove her devotion to her master – no matter how painful or humiliating or challenging.

And that of course let me to thinking about my story The Understudy. It's going to be released soon as a stand-alone book. (I've been working with the cover artist - wait till you see the result!) Sarah is unable to stop herself from loving Geoff, even though he seems to belong to another woman. He invites her to surrender and she cannot help answering his call. She'll do anything to please him, even if it means risking her career – or her heart.

****

I knocked on his door precisely at midnight. This time Geoffrey answered in person.

He wore a robe of some shimmery material that looked like silk, twilight blue woven with patterns of gold. His feet were bare. His eyes were hungry.

“Come in, little one,” he purred, stepping aside so that I could pass. “You’re very punctual. I gather you’ve learnt your lesson.”

“Yes, sir.” I didn’t know what else to say. I stood in the middle of the room, eyes cast down and hands clasped in front of me like a schoolgirl about to recite. I couldn’t bear to look at him; I was sure I’d lose control and do something without his permission.

“So you don’t want another spanking?” he laughed.

A wave of heat sizzled through me like summer lightning. I wanted his hands on my flesh—I didn’t care about the pain.

“It’s your choice,” I whispered. “Spank me if you want to.”

“Not tonight,” he replied. “For tonight, I have other ideas. Look at me, Sarah.”

I raised my head. He snared me with his eyes and wouldn’t release me. As usual under his scrutiny, my nipples tightened and my pussy wept. He seated himself on the sofa, still holding my gaze, and crossed one leg over the other.

“Now strip.”

Shame overwhelmed me. I didn’t understand it. I’d been naked in his presence the night before last. He had explored my body, inside and out. Why was I blushing and sweating now?

I wanted to obey him, to please him. Truly I did. Yet I couldn’t move.

“Sarah?” he queried, impatience evident in his voice. “Is there a problem?”

Suddenly I understood my reluctance. It was all about her. I knew that I couldn’t compete. I glanced around, searching for her photo, not seeing it anywhere. Perhaps it was in the bedroom, where he could fall asleep gazing upon her beauty…

“Sarah!” His rebuke brought my eyes back to his. “If you’re not going to follow instructions, you might as well go back to your room.”

“Oh no! Please don’t send me away. I’m sorry.”

I rushed to unbutton my blouse, not caring whether I was graceful or seductive. His scowl relaxed as I bared my breasts, my eager nipples all too obviously erect. His lips shaped themselves into a half-smile as I yanked off my skirt and tossed it away. That was all it took. I hadn’t worn a bra or panties for two days.

“Good girl. Why did you hesitate?”

“I—um—I didn’t know whether you’d like me. Whether I’d please you. My breasts are so small…”

“Your breasts are just fine. Anyway, it’s not your place to worry about such things. When I tell you to do something, just do it. Don’t question, obey.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” A tiny part of me wanted to protest, to complain, to rage against him for using me to dull his desire for his true love. Then he flicked his robe open, revealing his rampant erection. Any thought of resistance vanished. I wanted to be used.

“Kneel,” he commanded. “Suck me.”

I bruised my knees in my hurry to comply.

****

I've been there. I know what it feels like, to be willing to push yourself to your limits and beyond, for the sake of love. I try to capture that delirious, scary feeling in my stories.

It's not all one-sided, however. The dominant offers his own gifts, a world of safety, trust, and flashes of ecstasy mingled with the pain. In the song, the woman sings:

“Will you make me some magic with your own two hands?

Will you build an emerald city with these grains of sand?

Can you give me something I can take home? ”

And her lover answers: I can do that.

Out of This World

I just got the cover for Total-E-Bound's upcoming anthology Seeing Stars. The book, a collection of science fiction erotic romance, includes my novella "Bodies of Light", a M/F/M ménage about a doomed interstellar mission.

Don't you just love it? I must admit, I never realized that space men wore jeans. On the other hand, he's not so much wearing them as losing them, from what I can see. Maybe it's the low gravity...

Anyway, a spicy cover like that deserves a spicy excerpt. So here's an unedited snippet from "Bodies of Light". Let me know what you think!

***

“Christine.” The voice rang like crystal and flowed like water, a far cry from the flat, synthetic tones of the Archimedes. “Do not despair, lovely one.”

Christine could not help smiling at the endearment. No one had called her lovely for a very long time. She kept her eyes closed, willing the dream to continue.

“We are with you, Christine.” Deeper, richer, edged with laughter, another voice chimed in. “You are not alone.” A cool, soothing palm cupped her brow. Strong hands settled on her shoulders, drawing her upright, then slipped down to cradle her breasts. Luscious heat suffused her, focused on her suddenly-taut nipples. They were smouldering embers ready to burst into flame. Soft lips brushed her neck just below the hairline, sending shivers spiralling through her. Someone unknotted her hair and let the weight of it cascade freely down her back. She sighed as careful fingers eased out the tangles. Each gentle tug at her scalp was pure pleasure.

The caresses ceased for an instant while her chair swung away from the control panel. Then sensations began again, delicious and irresistible – unseen hands kneading her breasts, a warm mouth nuzzling her earlobe, a teasing tickle tracing its way down her belly, firm pressure parting her thighs and the barest graze of a fingertip across her pubis. A fierce stab of delight ripped away her languid mood. She moaned, arching up toward the retreating finger. Laughter poured over her like dark honey.

“You like that, sweet?” asked the baritone. The finger returned, pressing into her nylon-covered cleft and sliding back and forth along her length.

Christine gasped. “Oh, yes...” Swirls of fluorescent colour danced on her closed eyelids. Familiar scents teased her nostrils, earth after a rain and new-mown grass. The finger moved faster. The soaked fabric of her coveralls slithered across her sensitized flesh. A climax gathered in her depths, heavy and full as summer thunderheads. “More,” she whispered, just as someone dragged the zip of her garment down below her waist. “More!” she yelled, as sharp teeth fastened on her bared nipple and hard digits plunged into her naked cunt.

Dozens of hands fluttered over her skin, strummed in her pussy, plucked at her swollen breasts. The ripe clouds burst. A torrent of pleasure flooded her senses. Her body dissolved. There was nothing left but pure ecstasy, vibrating through her being like celestial music.

“Open your eyes.” The higher voice, the one that shimmered like liquid starlight, spoke close to her ear. The suggestion filtered through her post-orgasmic haze. This dream is certainly tenacious, she thought, her limbs still tingling. Usually I wake up after I come.

“We’re here with you now,” added the earthy voice, from the other side. “Look upon us.”

Why should she resist? It was just a dream. Her eyelids felt leaden but she forced them apart.

A stranger stood to her right, a youth with marble-pale skin and hair like spun silver. Smoke-coloured brows shaded his piercing violet eyes. A pert nose and full lips gave him an androgynous look, but his lithe body was undeniably male – especially the column of rigid flesh that jutted from his hairless groin.

Arousal flickered through Christine’s body, faint echoes of her recent climax. “Who are you?,” she queried, her mouth watering at the sight of his sturdy erection. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m Alyn,” the young man answered with a smile that stole Christine’s breath. His skin gleamed in the dim light of the bridge as though dusted with stars. Fat pink nipples winked at her from his smoothly muscled chest. She ached to touch them. As though he read her thoughts, he reached for her hand and drew it to his breast. “I’m here for you, Christine. To cherish and to comfort you.”

His skin was silk under her palm. She moulded the shape of his pectoral and flicked at the taut nub at its centre. His cock surged in response. She could see a drop of clear moisture gathering at the tip. She wet her lips, suddenly hungry. “Alyn,” she repeated, rolling the name on her tongue.

“And I’m Zed,” came the deeper voice, from her left. She turned to gaze at the second man, taller and stockier than Alyn but equally beautiful. Zed had jet hair and ebony eyes. With his prominent cheekbones, broad mouth and bronzed complexion, he made Christine think of some ancient tribal warrior. A provocative grin lit his face. He seized her other hand and curled her fingers around his swollen cock. “This is for you, little one.”

Crossing the Distance

By L.K. Below (Guest Blogger)

Long distance relationships can be difficult. At one point, the question arises -- should one of you move to be closer to the other? And if so, who?

In my contemporary romance, Stone Cold Kiss, Kelsey Donovan is faced with this exact problem. When she flies to Ireland to kiss the Blarney Stone, a relationship is the last thing on her mind. But as she’s dangling off the parapet of Blarney Castle, clinging to the bars for dear life, Seamus saunters into her life. Kelsey battles her attraction to him, quoting to herself all the reasons they would never work out -- not the least because she’s very dedicated to her job.

But Seamus isn’t so willing to let her walk away. Rather, he tries his best to convince her to move to Ireland. He isn’t willing to move away from his extensive family -- but Kelsey doesn’t want to give up the job she’s always dreamed of having, all for a guy she just met.

As I wrote this, I knew exactly what Kelsey was going through. In fact, I made the choice to move less than a year ago. Unlike Kelsey, my job doesn’t tether me in one place, but I chose love over the slightly warmer climes of Southern Ontario (I currently live just shy of the Arctic Circle). As I wrote Stone Cold Kiss, I had sympathy for Kelsey and her dilemma, even though she was a lot more conflicted about her decision than I was.

What choice does she make? Well I guess you’ll have to read the book to find out. :) Stone Cold Kiss was released today from Lyrical Press, Inc. Learn more about it, read an excerpt, or buy it here.

How many of you have crossed the distance to be with your partner? Would you consider a change of location if it meant being with that special someone?

L. K. Below writes poetry, romance, and speculative fiction. Under her full name, Lindsay Below, she pens young adult novels. Visit her online at www.lbelow.net or at her blog at http://lbelow.blogspot.com.

Prayer

Now that's an odd topic for an erotica author's blog, isn't it? I write steamy fiction that sometimes breaks taboos. What does that have to do with prayer?

Well, I wanted to talk about prayer because paradoxically, it's only since I've joined the erotic romance community that I've felt comfortable even mentioning the word. Most of my friends in the real world would raise their eyebrows if I told them that every morning, I spend ten to fifteen minutes praying. If I told them that I meditate, that wouldn't be viewed as too odd. But in fact what I do is much closer to prayer than meditation.

First I read the day's message in Daily Word, a publication of Silent Unity (www.unity.org). Each day this little booklet offers a word, an affirmation, a few paragraphs to serve as a meditation guide, and a Scripture quote. Today's word, for example, was "Good" and the affirmation was "God is all, and God is good".

Next, I sit quietly and try to open my mind and heart, focusing on the word and what it means to me. Sometimes I'm given new insights, not directly related to the day's topic. Today my attention was drawn to a sentence in the meditation text: God's good flows effortlessly. I was planning to spend much of the day writing and was feeling pressured about how much I could accomplish. This sentence helped me to relax and let go of some of the tension.

After I've spent a while seeking personal insight, I turn to a mental list of other people for whom I'm praying. Often, I can see how the day's word applies to their situation. Sometimes, I simply envision them surrounded by light, or laughing, filled with joy.

This is the part of my morning routine that is closest to what other people call prayer. However, I'm not really petitioning some Higher Power to give them what they need. Rather, I'm trying to use the power of imagination to see them as the perfect children of Spirit that I believe we all are.

I read somewhere once, "Prayer doesn't change God. It changes us." This captures pretty well the way I see things. I believe that so-called "reality" can change depending how we look at it. Prayer is about changing our perspective, taking a higher view, and recognizing the intrinsic order of the universe.

Anyway, in the romance community, you don't have to be embarrassed talking about prayer. People often post requests for prayer on the chat lists to which I subscribe. I've done so myself. I suspect that many of my fellow romance authors and readers have a more orthodox view of prayer than I do, but that doesn't really matter. We are united in our belief in the efficacy of prayer, however we define it.

I know from experience that prayer works. I've seen what I'd at least call miracles - both large and small. It's a comfort to be able to talk about this, to write about it, and not be the butt of mocking laughter.

I want to thank the romance community for this freedom.

Writing Period. Period...

By Teel James Glenn (Guest Blogger)

When I started writing my Dr. Shadows series of stories I didn’t want to. That is to say, I wanted to write an adventure hero, for sure and loved the pulp characters and story lines of the books from the thirties, but had always resisted the urge to write period stories.

Why?

Research! It scared the heck out of me.

I’m one of those guys who yells at the History Channel if they get something wrong- no matter how small. “That sword didn’t exist for a hundred years”, “The Huns used small horses,” etc…

And when I read most modern takes on period stories I found far too many ‘winks’ or incorrect attitudes expressed by the lead characters. Or, in some ways more annoying, a shallow misunderstanding of the ‘world’ of the time.

When I did write my first Dr. Shadows adventure then, it was with an apprehension that some other reader like me would be pointing out ‘the wrongs.’ Yet, Anton Chadeaux (Dr. Shadows) was calling to me to document his adventures so I felt compelled to take the plunge.

I made the promise to myself that I would try to write a book that could have been on the newsstands in the time period it was set; a ‘lost’ pulp, if you will.

Now, understand writing period stuff, even if it is a non-fiction book is really an exercise in fantasy because you are really are building the world from the ‘ground up’- controlling everything the reader sees and hears and, hopefully feels. With a pure fantasy world, however, no one yells if you include a historical character that could not have been there or a brand of cars that hadn’t been built yet!

So I girded my loins by reading a number of period books first to get a sense of attitudes and language. But if you read stories from another time period the first thing you notice is that they generally take a lot of the culture and look for granted. Suits are not generally well described, many furnishing are just casually referred to and little details are ‘assumed’ i.e. things like hats—when and where to wear them.

Thus combined with my readings of fiction from the time I had to read non-fiction on the fashions, cars, music and food of the period. And of course, the political and cultural events of the time.

A lot of research, eh? Well, I still wasn’t done. I was lucky and cursed at the same time that the time period I was writing about (I chose the late 1930s because so much of the world was changing and exciting then) was a very well documented era. This allowed me to locate movies and still photos from the time, listen to records and read song lyrics. I had to be able to visualize the world for myself as if it were ‘my’ contemporary world.

Once I could imagine what the world looked like I did my best to ‘get inside’ it—what were the common misconceptions of the time? The popular myths? The pet peeves of the people? This was faced with the ‘internal’ part of the world- the attitudes and fears that the characters might have.

Then I was ready to begin thinking about the story. One of the side effects of doing this much research is that I often find fascinating ‘lost’ pieces of history or nifty side trips of reality that I can use. I often weave these facts into my tales and, sometimes even whole new stories that I have to write.

I’ve been lucky in not having to make major alterations to plot lines though I’ve introduced subplots to take advantage of newly uncovered facts that have added zing to the tales.

There are times, of course where I can’t verify what shops were on a certain street, or what kind of car would be in a particular place, so one has to-gasp- fake it!

Breath, breath—it's not that bad. Not real cheating. Those are the moments in the story when you focus elsewhere-internally on the characters or on some other detail. Magicians call it misdirection—making he audience look where you want them to look.

Language is another issue; words and their meanings change over time and certain phrases sound-even if they are not-too contemporary. The slang of a period says a lot about it and helps transport the reader.

“Drop a dime” on someone is the old term for making a phone call to snitch on someone—but in the 1930s it was “drop a nickel”—the cost didn’t double until the 1950s. A little fact like that helps to pull the reader back in time. So always check the slang you use.

The danger, of course, is to get so into it that you lose the modern reader—the story has to flow. It is a delicate balancing act between explaining the world and ‘living’ in it. There are dark spots in any world, tough and some of them are the denigrating aspects of culture: the curse words.

Even something as seemingly eternal as ethnic slurs have to be examined. The term W.O.P. for Italians was actually meant “Without Papers,” and referred to illegal immigrants after WWII and so could not be used prior to that. The same is true for “Spade’ as an insult for African Americans- it was actually a job description in WWII for the members of graves registry units who more often than not were black!! When you needed graves dug you called ‘for a spade’ team to do it. And that eventually got shortened and became race specific! So, again, as an insult it could not be used before 1944/5.

Conversely, some insults that were perfectly acceptable to be used as ‘normal’ references to races, i.e. N****r for black and C***k for Chinese that might have shown up in period pulp magazines I find too vile to use even to preserve a sense of period. Here I made some compromises but with some period justification in the attitudes and policies of Street and Smith publications. It was one of the premier ‘houses’ who published Doc Savage and the Shadow among other books and evidenced a tolerance and open-mindedness in the pages of their magazines that I found easy to adopt.

In the end I have four series set in the late 1930s- the Skullmask,a horror/fantasy, the good Dr. Shadows, Deadline Zombies-a husband wife investigative team and Sovereign Wolf, a native American Marshal. All of them were written with the hope that if I could go back in time they could be slipped onto a newsstand and ‘blend ‘ right in with the other pulp characters, albeit with a moderately ‘enlightened’ world view. The advantage of all them set in the same world/time frame is that I’m able to cross series and combine research though each series has a very different tone.

Did I always get it right? Well, one of my Dr. Shadows stories had a casual reference to a movie series of characters that were based on a book that was not published for five years! One reader caught it and boy was my face red. But I try—that’s all an author can ever do!

Shadows of New York

In the 1930s, the world stands at the brink of war, Japan is intent on its conquest of China, and criminal masterminds are using the confusion to carve out their own empires. Into this world strides Dr. Shadows.

When his plane was shot down over Korea by the Japanese, Dr. Shadows was nearly killed, being rescued by Korean monks who nursed him back to health with an herbal treatment that turned his skin an ashen gray, but that also gives him a speed and agility unmatched by others. After years of healing and martial arts training, Dr. Shadows is back in New York where he's established the Shadows Foundation for Justice. Through this organization (and with the help of sidekicks Slugger Harris and monk and martial artist Dr. Hoon and perky Lee Han Ku (Hank)) he'll attempt to right wrongs, solve crimes, and defeat crimelords whose greed is spurring the world toward war.

Dr. Shadows’ New York is not the glamorous stage for theater and the super-rich, but bars, Chinatown, and secret societies.

Fans of pulp fiction will chuckle over the name-dropping of mostly-forgotten characters, and the careful reconstruction of an era that is now in the past and perhaps never fully existed.

Shadows of New York is available at : http://www.booksforabuck.com/sfpages/sf_11/shadows-of-new-york.html

Bio: I was born in Brooklyn though I’ve traveled the world for thirty years as a stuntman, fight choreographer, swordmaster, jouster, book illustrator, storyteller, bodyguard, and actor. I even studied sword under Errol Flynn’s last stunt double. I’ve choreographed realistic violence for every Shakespeare play at least once and literally hundreds of different productions. And as a performer of I’ve done 52 Renaissance Faires, been in many genre films and TV series, most famously as Vega in the web series “Street Fighter: the later years.”

All of this life experience informs my writing; I have 30 books in print and have sold short works to magazines like Mad, Blazing Adventures, Black Belt, Classic Pulp Fiction, Fantasy Tales, AfterburnSF, Fantasy World Geographic and others.

Striking a Blow at Multiple Sclerosis

I have a few friends who have MS. I know that it's a disease that can destroy one's quality of life. Possibly the worst thing about it is the uncertainty. You don't know when you're going to have a bad day. You don't know how badly your ability to function is going to deteriorate. The emotional drain has got to be nearly as bad as the physical symptoms.

I'm proud to say that I'm doing a little bit to strike a blow at MS. Earlier this week, the Coming Together altruistic erotica imprint released Coming Together Presents Robert Buckley, which I edited. All proceeds from sales of this book (which is available in print as well as in many ebook formats) will go to the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America. Bob Buckley's life has been touched much more directly than mine by MS, and he's donating a book's worth of his exceptional writing toward the research and support functions of MSAA.

If you know anyone suffering from this frightening disease, I hope you'll consider buying a copy of the book. It's not romance, although quite a few of the tales have happy endings. You can read one of the stories from the book for free at the Erotica Readers and Writers Association, as well as a great interview with the author. (But don't believe what he says about the way I look! All he's ever seen is my promo picture!)

Thanks for your support!

Pick 'n Mix

By Victoria Blisse (Guest Blogger)

Hello, I am Victoria Blisse and I’m taking over Lisabet’s blog today. Thanks for the invite!

When I was little I would get to have sweets once a week, usually a Friday and I would get a whole twenty pence to spend as I wanted. My very favourite way to get my sweet fix was to indulge in a good old pick and mix.

All the sweet shops and post offices and such would have a tray with multiple square indents in it and each little square would be full of a different kind of sweet. You might have gummy worms, white chocolate mice, chocolate cups or cola bottles. There would always be the individually wrapped pieces of bubbly bubble gum that had a particularly pink flavour that doesn’t remind you of any real kind of food and probably some lollipops of some kind or another.

Most sweets cost a penny or the large items like the ones shaped like a babies dummy might set you back two whole pence. You could get many sweets for your twenty pence I can tell you.

I am sure you’re trying to work out where on earth I am going with this pleasant jaunt down memory lane well I’ll tell you. My love of pick and mix has never changed. I love variety, I like to pick and choose a little of this and a sample of that with maybe a little of the other mixed in for good measure. If you’ve ever read any Victoria Blisse stories you might have noticed this. In fact you only have to pop on over to victoriablisse.co.uk and have a look at my books page to see I like variety. You’ll find ménage, vampires, werewolves and contemporary romance set by the seaside all in my list of titles.

So, I suggest to get the best from your Blisse you need to pick and mix a few titles and mix them together but if you’re like me actually picking and mixing can take a long time. So, House of Erotica has made it simple for you. They’ve taken my four stories published separately with them and combined them into one collection.

It contains a little femdom mixed with a heightened sense of smell and the most wonderful seaside town in the world (Scentsual), An older lady who falls head over heels for a young lad she employs at her supermarket (Till the End), A submissive college student who doesn’t realise her own beauty (Reluctant Muse) and a young lady out for revenge on a cheating partner by having sex with anything that moves in Masquerading Hearts.

All those titles are available individually if one particularly catches your eye but I suggest you go for The Victoria Blisse Collection and then you can enjoy them all together, it saves you money too!

Now, are you a ‘variety is the spice of life’ kind of person or not? Let me know if you like to mix and match or if you like everything to be in order. Also shout out if you remember old fashioned pick and mix, you can’t beat a good old reminisce now and then!

Also, please keep in touch. You can contact me over on my website or find me on Facebook or Twitter. I love meeting new people.